


Synesthesia

by Wrong_Side_Of_Reality



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 20:39:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrong_Side_Of_Reality/pseuds/Wrong_Side_Of_Reality
Summary: Patrick has been living his life without being able to see, and he feels little aspiration to do anything, finding it difficult to rise in the morning. That is until a friend forces him to do something he wouldn't have ever done on his own.





	Synesthesia

Colour is something we take for granted. Colour isn't overly important to us until the event when it simply, disappears. Or imagine never having the privilege of seeing such a wonder at all? We classify things like waterfalls and giant buildings as wonders, but colour? That is just one of life's simple pleasures. At least it feels that way for the majority of people. 

For Patrick, the first moments of life left him without sight. Not a medical professional in the state of Illinois could figure out why. 

It wasn't congenital, they knew that for certain, there wasn't any pressure due to forceps or the birth canal that could've damaged his vision, and there was no way it could be caused by anything to do with fetal alcohol syndrome or defects due to smoking since his mother never partook in either of those activities. Patrick was like a living, breathing, case of a nearly fatal injury without the urgency.

He didn't even know the simplest things about his family and peers. He knew them of course, but he felt like he didn't because he could never see how he made them feel. Instead, he used his other senses to the best of his abilities. He'd study each person's voice for tiny quirks that not even the person themselves would notice. The way certain people would drag out their syllables, others would stutter, others had high voices, even if they didn't notice it, he would.

Patrick lived independently, his basement apartment was tiny as well as empty looking and bland. So tiny that he was able to create a mental map of its few rooms. Every inch of the space was almost devoid of any sort of colour, everything was black, white, brown, gray, or tan. Bleak. The apartment's appearance could be best described as bleak. He felt alone. He had friends and family to turn to, but still he felt alone in the world. And with the feeling of being alone came the waves of depression that prohibited him from doing so much as to get up in the morning. He never felt truly awake, just conscious. 

He has a friend, Andy, who is one of the main reasons he actually gets up on occasion, mainly because Andy forces him to. He makes the best coffee, there was no questioning that, and he always tried to make the best food he could, always hoping that would make Patrick feel a bit better at least. He was never ill intentioned, he always meant well, but some things he made Patrick do always felt like they were a little too much for him. 

Recently he decided on Patrick's behalf that he needed to get out more. With that in mind, he had scheduled these group therapy sessions with other members of the community with disabilities, the Thursday of last week. Now, it was Thursday again, and Andy had come by to take Patrick to his first session. Patrick wasn't happy.

"Why do I need to go to this stupid thing anyway? What're we going to do? Sit around and talk about our feelings? I'm depressed because I can't see for shit, there you go, have my feelings" Patrick grumbles as he stands up. He grabs the outfit Andy had set out for him. 

"Oh stop complaining, Patrick, it'll be good for you, you'll see," Andy smiles.

"Yeah, whatever," he shuffles off to the washroom to go change. He pulls on the garments as quickly as possible, feeling for the tags to assure he wouldn't put them on backwards.

"That was fast," Andy remarks.

"The faster we get there, the faster it'll be over," Patrick sighs, heading towards the door. Andy follows behind him at brisk pace.  
He pulls ahead of him and opens the car door before Patrick could blatantly slam into it. 

"Jeez Patrick, you're going to get yourself killed by running around aimlessly like that," Andy scolds as he gets into his own seat. Patrick feels for the seatbelt and clips himself, grunting at Andy but saying nothing.

The drive was nearly silent, with the exception of the barely audible music escaping from Patrick's headphones. 

Seeing as Patrick is preoccupied with his own music, Andy decides to play some music of his own. He quietly hums to himself as he pulls into the parking lot of the therapist's office. 

It is a relatively plain beige building, though it is quite large and oblong, with the occasional leafy green plant, blue shutters on the few windows, and light grey wheelchair accessible ramps next to the stairs.

"We're here," Andy taps Patrick gently on the shoulder and he swats his hand away. He pulls the headphones from his ears and hangs them around his neck. He pushes the car door open and jumps out, still walking as briskly as possible.

Andy catches up once more before Patrick could get himself lost. He grabs his hand and refuses to let him get away, practically dragging him in through the front doors. 

They're greeted by what should've been a welcoming group of people, smiling warmly and inviting them into their humble circle.

But, regardless of them clearly being accepting and all, it only made Patrick want to leave even more, their constant watching eyes fixated on him. Andy isn't about to let that happen. 

He sits next to Patrick in one of the flimsy orange plastic chairs, forcing Patrick to sit. The cheerful therapist smiles and shuffles his papers.

"It seems as if everyone's here, yes?" He looks around the room and the group nods in unison. 

"So, maybe we should all introduce ourselves, say a little bit about ourselves, I'll start." The therapist proposes. He grabs a small yellow beanbag with a smiley face on it from behind his chair.

"My name is Dr. Uens, but you call me Jamie, I used to have a drug problem, but now I'm clean. I'm not here to judge you, so feel free to say whatever you need," Patrick groans at his overly cheery disposition as Jamie passes the beanbag to a fidgety girl in a yellow dress next to him. 

"I'm Darby, I like cats a lot, and I have anxiety," she speaks at an extremely quick pace, to the point where it's difficult to understand her. She passes the beanbag over to a thin boy dressed in a red sweatshirt and black jeans.

"Pete, I play bass, I'm bipolar," he doesn't seem to care about what it is he's saying, simply eying the floor and passing it over to the next person. 

Patrick has tuned most of the people out by now. There was a Felix, an Ellie, a Katie, a Fox, a Harry, a Gabriel, a Marnie, none of which particularly peaked his interest. That was until it came to the man on the opposite side of him.


End file.
